


This time we won't let it die

by spacebuck



Category: Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Pool Sex, Reuinions, Semi-Public Sex, Steve Rogers Is Not Okay, Survivors Guilt, Verbal Consent, bottom!Steve, is more accurate, not really but, pool frot, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebuck/pseuds/spacebuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, Cap, there’s some guy up here with a big ass gun and a shiny as fuck arm saying he’s giving- no, he’s brought the stupid back for you, but he doesn’t think you need it.”</p><p>Or: Bucky finds Steve, and they adjust to living together again</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this came out of a tumblr post [here](http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com/post/128759451662/shanology-jammeke-heres-what-i-want-to) (which i continue [here](http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com/post/128764572972/oh-my-god-can-you-please-write-more-of-that-stucky)), and this is those two drabbles put together and extended, with input from [this headcanon](http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com/post/126897582067/when-steve-have-nightmares-he-goes-to-the-towers) because i'm trash. 
> 
> I've split it into two chapters that can technically stand alone, with all of the nsfw in the second chapter after a minor timeskip, SO if smut isn't your jam, you can stop at the end of the first chapter!
> 
> un-beta'd as usual, all mistakes are mine. oh man i should be studying

As another agent hits the ground, Steve steps back, an arrow grazing his nose and hitting the person coming up the stairs, guns raised. Steve lifts a hand, signals up at the rooftop out of pure habit, then pops the shield up off the ground. Strapping it back to his arm, he jogs across the rooftop, slipping over the edge and down the fire escape, back to where he should have been in the first place.

 

          “What the hell Steve?” Nat’s voice crackles through the comm, quieter than usual, and Steve shoves the earpiece back into its proper position before joining back up with Nat and Thor.

 

          “Hydra on the rooftop,” he explains quickly, slamming his shield against an agent’s head before pulling it off his arm and throwing it. ”Any sign of them slowing down?” he asks as he catches the shield and punches another guy in the face.

 

          “Nope” Tony answers for her, as the man himself flies into sight, avoiding the gunfire of the quinjet tailing him. “They’re like rats. Or rabbits. Or-” He’s cut off as he’s forced to throw himself backwards to avoid another barrage.

 

          Steve grits his teeth, not liking how this was looking one little bit, and opens his mouth to speak when he hears Clint’s “Uh..?” Steve looks up, concerned, but sees nothing. Then he ducks as a fist comes flying at his head, holding back an undignified yelp.

 

          “Clint?” Nat picks up, unfazed as she tases someone. “Do you need support?”

 

          Just as Clint goes to answer, the agent Steve’s fighting drops, and then the one sneaking up on Nat follows. Shot after shot rings out, and agent after agent falls, with only a few of them boasting Clint’s arrows.

 

          None of them have time to question it as a new wave of agents appears, but whoever was firing was damned good, and fast as hell. With the added backup, they manage to take control of the fight, killing or capturing the last of the hydra agents. Steve only has to say “Clint,” before they can all hear the sound of Clint running, the thud of him landing on the next rooftop, and then him yelping “What the hell?”

 

          Then there’s quiet. Steve looks at Nat. Nat looks at Tony. Tony nods, ready to take off, when Clint’s voice comes over the comm, sounding confused.

 

          “Hey, Cap, there’s some guy up here with a big ass gun and a shiny as fuck arm saying he’s giving- no, he’s brought the stupid back for you, but he doesn’t think you need it.” Steve doesn’t hesitate, grabbing his shield and running for the building Clint had been positioned on. “Cap? does that mean anything to you?”

 

          Steve doesn’t answer, just pushes himself faster, then hears Tony’s “Hold on” and hears Tony flying towards him. He doesn’t think, just holds up his hand, latches on to Tony’s, and feels himself be lifted off the ground.

 

          The trip doesn’t take long, ten, maybe twenty seconds, but the whole time Steve’s telling himself not to hope, not to expect, that it couldn’t be, but it had to be, because only one person alive would know what that meant.

 

          His feet hit the rooftop, and Tony lands behind him, but Steve’s not paying attention to him anymore, or to Clint, standing awkwardly to the side. His eyes are locked on the raised eyebrow, the familiar tilt to lips he knows better than his own. His voice is soft when he speaks, but he knows the other can hear him fine. Knows he has hearing almost as good as Steve does now.

 

                    “Bucky?”

 

          Steve can hear the clamouring of voices over the comm, cam hear Clint saying something, Tony replying, but all he can think about was the fact that, after all this time searching, Bucky had found him. Bucky had found him after Steve had given up looking.

          He takes a step forward, then another, and Bucky just watches him, waits for him, little smile not leaving his face. Steve has no idea what the others were thinking, doesn’t care at all as he reaches out. His touch is hesitant, fingers brushing against Bucky’s cheek, like he’s expecting this whole thing to be a dream. But when all he encounters is warm skin, his fingers slide down, off Bucky’s jaw to grip at his jacket. His knuckles are white as he clings to the material, and he hesitates, gaze flicking over Bucky’s face.

 

          Bucky’s smile grows slightly, and he steps in when Steve won’t, one arm wrapping around Steve’s waist, pulling him into a hug. And Steve all but falls into it, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and just holding him tightly. “Buck,” he starts, but Bucky hushes him, knowing what the next words out of Steve’s mouth are going to be and cutting the apology off before it begins. Steve drops his head, rests his cheek against Bucky’s and does as he’s told for once.

 

         “Sorry to interrupt this touching scene-” Tony begins, and Clint pokes him with the butt of an arrow before taking over.

 

          “But we’re on a rooftop in the middle of New York, can we move this inside maybe? Away from the news cameras?” Clint looks up pointedly, and Steve reluctantly follows his gaze to the CNN helicopter flying around them. Steve drops his arms, goes to step back, to break contact, but Bucky wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist. He doesn’t do anything further, just keeps his hand there loosely, and Steve looks at him, eyebrows drawing down.

 

          Bucky just shrugs with one shoulder, grabs the case Steve assumes has his rifle in it, then slides his hand down to link their fingers, as though he knew Steve needed something to hold on to. But, Steve realises, looking at Bucky as they head for the door into the building, maybe Bucky needs the same thing.

 

          When they emerge from the building, Steve squinting a little and Bucky covering his eyes, they’re met with the muzzle of one of Natasha’s guns.

 

          But, even though he tenses, Bucky just slows to a stop, pulling Steve with him, and stares at Nat for a long moment. “Natalia,” he says softly, and her eyes narrow, before her gaze drops to their linked hands.

 

          “Natasha, this is Bucky,” Steve says carefully, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Buck, Natasha.” When Bucky just nods, made no move to release either his case or Steve’s hand, Steve sighs softly.

 

          “Nat, I trust him,” Steve murmurs softly, eyes on her face. “And we need to get out of here before the reports come in.” That gets her moving, and she steps back, gun slowly dropping. Steve hears the click of the safety, the slide of metal against the fabric of a holster, and releases the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

 

          “You shouldn’t.” Both Nat and Bucky speak at the same time, and Steve looks between them for a heartbeat before his eyes settle on Bucky’s face.

 

          “Never said I was smart,” he says with a wry smile, steps forward, and miracle of miracles, after only a brief hesitation, Bucky follows.

 

          “Stark, rendezvous with Banner, get big green contained again then meet us at the tower,” Steve says briskly into his comm, and hears the affirmative before he squeezes Bucky’s hand lightly, keeps walking towards the quinjet.

 

          He doesn’t stop until they’re next to the wide ramp leading on board, but then he does, turns to look at Bucky.

 

          “You don’t have to come with us,” he murmurs, just to be sure. “Nobody’s forcing you to.”

 

          Bucky smiles slightly, just a twitch of his lips and a shift of an eyebrow before his face settles back into calm. “I know. Now are we going or what?”

 

          Steve smiles, steps onto the ramp, and Bucky follows, half a step behind. Steve takes his usual seat, perched on the low bench, and waits. Bucky doesn’t make him wait long, drops down next to him, and the soft clack of the rifle case hitting the metal floor seems loud in the sudden quiet.

 

          The others pile on board, and Clint slides into the pilot's seat, a look of glee on his face.

 

          Then there’s quiet again, and everyone looks at Bucky. Everyone except Steve that is, who’s staring at their linked hands, running his thumb back and forth over the skin of Bucky’s fingers.

 

          The silence stretches onwards, until Steve finally says, “Bucky, meet Thor, and Clint in the front.” Clint said something that was swallowed up by the noise of take-off, and Thor offers his hand. Bucky hesitates a moment, then presses his leg against Steve’s, releases his hand, and shakes the Asgardian’s politely. As soon as they part, Bucky’s fingers are sliding between Steve’s again.

 

          Thor turns to Nat, commends her on something Steve had missed, and Clint joins in with a laugh. Steve realises after a moment that they’re trying to give he and Bucky some semblance of privacy, and is immediately grateful.

 

          “Buck,” he says softly, and Bucky leans his shoulder into Steve’s.

 

          “Don’t apologise,” Bucky says firmly, shakes his head a little for emphasis. “Don’t do that. It’s not your fault, wasn’t your fault, will never be your fault. Can we focus on the more important things?”

 

          “Like what?” Steve says after a heartbeat, backing down for the moment.

 

          “We’re alive. That’s a pretty good place to start.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ptsd/nightmares/survivor's guilt comes into play here as well, talked about at the start, and in the last paragraph. it's nothing major, but be warned.

          Living with Bucky was different now than it had been in ’45, or further back in the thirties. They had separate rooms, a working shower, enough room to work around each other easily. The fact that they had an entire floor of Stark tower to themselves helped with that.

 

          There were nights when Bucky’s strangled yells woke him in the middle of the night, and Steve rushed to Bucky’s room, calmed him down with soft words and gentle hands. Sometimes it took mere minutes for Bucky to sag against him, sometimes it took hours. But when it eventually did happen, Steve just nudged his friend over, crawled into bed with him, and held him until he fell back asleep. Or, sometimes, just held him, as they talked quietly into the night.

 

          Because of everything Bucky was going through, Steve kept his mouth shut and his head down on his own problems, not wanting to worry his friend. If he felt an attack coming on while they were out, he’d hide it, calm himself down like he always did, refusing to ask for help or show he was hurting. If he had nightmares, he’d leave their floor, go for a run, or a swim, or spend some time in the gym, until his mind cleared and his heart settled.

 

          Like now.

 

          As soon as his breathing steadies, ragged gasps becoming soft pants, Steve pushes himself upright, grabs his sweatpants. Tugging them on, he grabs a towel and his swimming trunks and heads for the door, closing it carefully behind him. He pauses in the living area, listens for the sleep-soft sounds of Bucky’s breathing and hopes to hell that Bucky will stay asleep and peaceful until he gets back. Then he heads for the stairs.

 

          Sure, the elevator was faster, but Steve prefers the stairs on nights like this. The physical exertion of climbing fifteen floors, and the absence of Jarvis’ comments, meant that when he emerges from the stairwell onto the gym floor, he’s almost calm again.

 

          After quickly scanning the floor to make sure it was empty, Steve changes into his swimming trunks and leaves his pants and towel on a chair before heading to the pool. The water is still, calm, and Steve wishes his mind were like that, wishes his thoughts would stop and the voice yelling that it was all his fault would just shut up. Without hesitation, he dives, cold water sending a shiver down his spine as he breaks the surface, shocking his mind quiet. He stays under until his lungs burn, then pushes off the bottom, gasping in a breath as soon as he hits air.

 

          Then he freezes, spotting Bucky sitting by the chair his clothes are on. Eyes wide, he just stares, mentally berating himself for leaving when Bucky obviously needed him, but Bucky doesn’t say anything. Instead, the man just tucks one knee up to his chest and rests his chin on it, watching Steve with a little smile. Steve can’t tell what he’s thinking, he’s never been able to read Bucky like that, but he can tell even from a distance that Bucky’s calm, unhurried.

 

          So Steve grits his teeth, braces his hand on the edge of the pool for a moment, then pushes off, into a smooth stroke. He swims, and swims, and swims, until there’s lights flickering at the edges of his vision, and he’s sucking in breaths faster than he can use them.

 

          His hands catch the edge of the pool, and Steve drops his head, forehead resting against the concrete lip as he pants, tries to control his breathing. There’s a soft splash behind him, but he doesn’t lift his head, not until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he jumps at the contact.

 

          Bucky stays silent, just nudges Steve into motion, guides him to the shallow part of the pool, near the steps they had both ignored.

 

          He stays silent as he turns Steve and pulls him into a hug, stays silent as he presses their bodies together, skin warm against the chill of the air. Steve stays still for a moment, not processing. Then, before he can help it, his arms are around Bucky’s shoulders, fingers digging into Bucky’s back, and his head is buried against Bucky’s good shoulder.

 

          Steve takes a shuddering breath, lets it out on a hoarse sob as he finally, finally lets himself be comforted. He shakes, feels Bucky’s hand drift up and down his back slowly, just lets himself be held as Bucky’s wordless murmurs fill his ears and Bucky’s smell fills his lungs and his touch eases Steve’s mind.

 

          He feels the press of something against the side of his head, feels that something drift to his temple. Steve sucks in a breath as he realises it’s Bucky’s lips, but doesn’t move, doesn’t want to dispel the illusion that Bucky cares for him in the way Steve wants him to.

 

          Eventually though, he has to lift his head, and Steve does so with reluctance. He stares at the skin in front of him, until Bucky’s cool fingers against his jaw tile his head up. Their gazes meet and for a moment neither of them breathe, and Steve wonders if Bucky can feel the way his heart is pounding in his chest, or the way his stomach twists.

 

          Bucky’s eyes drop, and Steve wonders briefly if Bucky’s looking at his lips, dismisses the thought as Bucky’s eyes drift back up. Steve licks his lips, and the way Bucky’s eyes shift again are at odds with the thought. Steve opens his mouth, about to say something, anything, something, but instead he throws caution to the wind, takes a chance.

 

          Steve leans forward, slowly, and he’s barely halfway when Bucky seems to get with the plan, closing the distance between their mouths.

 

          The kiss is soft, hesitant, as Bucky’s lips slide against his lightly, and Steve isn’t quite sure that this is actually happening. Not until his lips part on a breath, and Bucky’s hand tightens at his hip.

 

          That’s the only warning Steve gets before Bucky’s herding him backwards, sliding his tongue against Steve’s lower lip. Steve gasps, one hand rucking up into Bucky’s hair, and Bucky takes advantage, tongue pressing forward then sliding into Steve’s mouth.

 

          The kiss turns desperate, as Steve struggles to believe this is actually happening, as Steve pours himself into the kiss in the hopes that if this is a mistake, or a dream, it’s one he’ll remember. Because there’s no way he wants to forget the hot press of Bucky’s mouth, the slick curl of his tongue against Steve’s the way Bucky gasps slightly whenever Steve tugs on his hair, or rolls his hips forward.

 

          Bucky growls softly, just the barest thing, metal hand sliding down off Steve’s hip, around to his ass as Steve feels the cool press of the pool wall against his back. Then Bucky lifts, and Steve gasps into his mouth, locks his legs around Bucky’s hips and clings to him. Bucky’s hand tightens on Steve’s ass, then he rocks his hips forward, and Steve’s breath catches at the press of Bucky’s dick against his own, even through three layers of fabric.

 

          Bucky breaks the kiss, pulls back half an inch, and Steve whines low in his throat, hand in Bucky’s hair trying to pull him back. Bucky holds firm, rapid breath puffing over Steve’s lips as Bucky licks his own, whispers “Yes?”

 

          Steve doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t think he ever will when it comes to Bucky.

 

          “Yeah.”

 

          It’s barely more than a breath, but it’s all Bucky needs, and he closes the gap, locking their mouths together again as he rolls his hips slow and steady against Steve’s.

 

          Bucky doesn’t stop when Steve’s breaths turn into aborted whimpers against his lips, or when those whimpers turn to pitchy moans, and Steve scrabbles at Bucky’s shoulders, desperate for more, for something. Bucky’s right hand cups Steve’s throat lightly, and his hips speed up. Steve can only shudder, fingers finally finding purchase in Bucky’s skin just as his orgasm washes through him.

 

          He breathes Bucky’s name against the other’s lips, feels Bucky tense and hears Bucky groan softly, and Bucky’s hips slow, come to a stuttering halt.

 

          Their lips slide apart as Bucky lifts his head, and they stare at each other for a long time. Steve feels his cheeks heat, and a little smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. Bucky’s head drops slightly, nose pressing to the edge of Steve’s cheekbone, and Bucky rubs his nose softly over the flushed skin. Their breathing slows, and Steve shivers slightly as the cold air sinks past the warmth of Bucky’s body against him.

 

          That gets Bucky moving, and Steve tucks his head down against Bucky’s shoulder as the man shifts his grip, carries him up the stairs.

 

          When Bucky stops, Steve lifts his head with a soft noise, feels Bucky smile against his temple before he’s urging Steve to unhook his legs. Steve does so reluctantly, keeps his hold on Bucky’s shoulders until Bucky steps back grabs Steve’s towel.

 

          It’s then that Steve realises that Bucky’s still in his trackpants, sopping wet, and the reality of what they had just done hits him, making him sway. Bucky steadies him gently with a hand on his hip, proceeds to dry Steve off carefully, and Steve doesn’t protest for once, just lets Bucky look after him.

 

          When Bucky drapes the towel over Steve’s head, ruffles his hair dry, Steve finally kicks into gear. Lifting his hands, he takes hold of the towel and slides if off himself, looping it around the back of Bucky’s neck carefully and tugging him in for a soft kiss, before working the towel over Bucky’s body.

 

          The pants are a lost cause, and they both know it, so Bucky just wrings out the legs as best he can, before sliding his hand into Steve’s leading him silently towards the elevator.

 

          Steve breaks the silence then, not speaking to Bucky but rather to Jarvis with a soft, “Jarvis, would you mind filtering the pool?” When he hears the AI’s assent, he squeezes Bucky’s fingers, and is relieved when Bucky squeezes back.

 

          They ride up in silence, Steve tucking himself against Bucky’s side and lets Bucky lead him to the shower as soon as they reach their floor. It’s fast, Bucky running his hands over every inch of Steve’s body, washing off the chlorine and come before washing himself. Steve lets himself be dried off again, lets Bucky wrap him up in a fuzzy towel and herd him to Steve’s room.

 

          Steve hesitates beside his bed, unsure of what Bucky wants, but Bucky nudges him forward until Steve climbs on, settles in the middle. Bucky climbs in after him, discarding both of their towels, and wraps Steve into a hug. Steve sighs softly, snuggling into Bucky’s side, and realises suddenly that the quiet isn’t just between them. Realises that Bucky had managed what the swim often didn’t, realises that Bucky had quietened the almost relentless voices in the back of his mind. Steve lifts his head, just a fraction, tilts it until he can press a kiss to Bucky’s jaw. Bucky tips his head down, smile flirting with the edge of his lips, and Steve can’t help but kiss him there, too.

 

          ”Thank you,” he whispers softly, and Bucky smiles, runs a hand slowly up Steve’s back, presses another soft kiss to his lips.

 

          They’ll talk in the morning, Steve knows. Work out what this is, work out what was going to happen. But for now, he let himself relax, slowly falling asleep tucked against Bucky as Bucky’s presence keeps the nightmares at bay.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr!](http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com) come talk to me about the brooklyn boys maybe?


End file.
